


Adapting

by Toxikku



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AU, Adoption, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gladstone dealing with being an adoptive parent, Lena being a rebel child who bottles up her feelings, a dadstone au, and sassy, dad in training, sassy dorks, spoiler: besides their banter they're total dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxikku/pseuds/Toxikku
Summary: Maybe adopting a rebel child was a bit of a hasty decision.Lena De Spell is full of too many secrets to name, and one of her many talents is bottling them up (oh yeah, and her emotions too) until it's too late. This Gladstone guy adopts her - but when all family has ever done is fight, can she really put her faith in him?Probably not. Right?





	1. A New Future

Words aren’t always easy to say, especially if you have none to begin with.

Both had their breaths figuratively stolen at the beautiful peach skies, the sun setting in the distance and the day slowly coming to a close.

A well-dressed goose, clad in a yellow dress shirt and green suit, walked down the lightly illuminated street. He had briefly watched the grey clouds in the sky drift away from the heavens’ centre, then looked to the child, or for better word, teen, walking beside him.

Her expression was dull, watching the ground. The sky hadn’t caught her interest for long. It would almost seem as if she were eyeing her shadow, but she could just so easily be watching the passing cracks in the pavement. She had a backpack over her shoulder, though he doubts there is much in it.

Gladstone Gander observed her expression, though was ultimately unsure of what sentence he’d say to it. The silence was making him uncomfortable, way more than a room’s flicker of pages in a sound of nothingness.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the young duck spoke first.

“Whatever you’re about to ask, no,” she cut in, her tone recluse and withdrawn.

His eyes grew wide in surprise, and his gaze moved to the side quickly.

“Lena,” he mumbled quietly.

The response was a cold, almost pleading stare – you wouldn’t think those two emotions could blend, but they did, and she wore them well.

Gladstone sighed in reply. He looked to the skies once more, then brightened a little.

“Okay, so we don’t have to talk about any that mushy ahhhh-whatever stuff. But the sky looks pretty great, right?”

Elbowed gently, Lena turned to glare at him, but the sky caught her eyes and she bit back the irritation. That irritation was replaced with awe.

“I guess. This is just from the cityscape though. You ever seen from the pier?”

Gladstone folded his arms, grinning slightly. “Oh, have I ever seen it from the pier? From a golden cruise ship? Have I—”

“I get the point,” Lena interrupted wryly, unable to decide if she should scowl at his arrogance or smirk at his apparent silliness.

She noticed a bead of sweat down his face, and he looked sheepish.

“Yeeeaah.”

The older goose rubbed the back of his neck, saying a few words quite quickly.

“…I haven’t stayed in it long enough.”

“What, the golden cruise ship?” she remarked. “Must not be real, then. Most people would have that first on their agenda.”

Gladstone huffed. Was she doubting the validity of his statement? Someone told the kid about his ridiculous luck, right? Did… he have to tell her himself? He shook his head and folded his arms, thinking momentarily of the ocean.

“Not me.”

His thoughts drifted briefly to Donald. If there was anyone he associated the ocean with, it was his dear cousin. The cousin that most likely hated him to the core… and wondered why he never used the ship.

“So… do you like the pier?” he asked suddenly, trying to divert the conversation elsewhere.

He regretted asking that. Her mood seemed to drop a little – there was no malice there, just sadness.

“That’s… probably a better question in past tense,” the teenager admitted truthfully.

Some said the ocean was pretty. The best thing about it was seeing the horizon. For Lena, that had been true, but it wasn’t anymore. Memories of her aunt scorning, threatening, and manipulating her sucked whatever beauty she saw in the ocean away. Her body still felt cold.

“You don’t like it anymore?” He cocked his head curiously, turning to look at her and bending a little. “What changed?”

Lena stopped, and so did he. Without a doubt, he’d struck a nerve, and she was only just processing that.

Instead of answering, she exhaled, trying to level her emotions before facing the lucky goose again. Her expression was stern – its annoyance returned.

“How long do we have left to walk?”

Fortunately, they’d been talking enough for the conversation to no longer go sour. They’d stopped directly in front of a skyscraper, littered with sparkling windows and a tube—that was most likely the building’s elevator—leading to the top.

Lena’s eyes widened, and she looked to Gladstone, staring at him in bafflement.

“You live _here_?”

He made a rounding motion with his hand, as if trying to calculate something and only finding an estimate.

“Only about… 14% of the time.”

“But you don’t even have a job, do you? How are you doing this?”

He put his hands on his hips, growing slightly impatient. “Didn’t your, uh… Webby friend tell you anything about me?”

“Webby tells me about a lot of things. You zone in and out,” she replied, eyes rolling to the side. “I remember she told me you were willing to doom your cousin to eternity in some cursed casino though.”

Gladstone grew immediately indignant.

“It wasn’t like that – I – I couldn’t lose – I – I just – I saved everyone with my deliciously good luck!” he insisted, folding his arms and looking offended.

“You ever heard of the five stages of grief?” Lena responded. A cheeky smirk formed on her expression.

Gladstone fervently refused to look at her.

“And… delicious?” she inquired, her face disturbed at his choice of wording.

“Context… context – you… you had to be there, okay?” he got out eventually, turning to walk inside the glamorous building. “Come on.”

As the automatic doors rolled open and Gladstone passed through them, Lena looked up at the height of the building.

_Good luck… right._

She couldn’t imagine how long it would have taken to build it. She had to admit though, it sure was a flashy building if she ever saw one. The windows were polished, some even had balconies. The possibility of her seeing the ground from either of the above heights was a bit jarring.

She saw Gladstone checking through his mailbox inside – there was no surprise clear on his face, as if he expected every piece of mail the box threw at him. His eyelids were low as he skimmed the names.

It was weird how one could act so casual when the day was far from an ordinary one. If this were an ordinary day for Lena, she’d ditch this guy the first chance she got – leave him in the dust like she had all of her boarding schools.

Nothing was stopping her actually.

A gentle breeze pushed her hair into her face, and she readjusted it. She squinted in the wind’s direction akin to expressing displeasure at an enemy playing a prank on her.

Then, like a disapproving parent, the beautiful sky spat on her. Droplets hit her fur.  She watched as the ground was splattered with clear liquid. She took a several steps back as it splashed against her shoes, and then looked up at the sky in quiet wonder.

It had been so pleasant a few seconds ago. It had changed just like that.

It was a metaphor Lena herself could resonate with.

Her eyes focused on the distance.

Could she handle that? Being alone again? Being terrified of her own shadow, even when the life within it was gone? What would she even do?

Webby would probably worry for her, if she kept seeing her. Probably say something like being alone was the worst thing Lena could do to herself, and Lena knew. That’s why she’d do it.

“Lena?”

Gladstone stood at the door, a couple of steps away from its censor. His eyes were confused, watching the rain crash gently against her with concern.

Cold, tired, and wet, Lena decided.

“Yeah, whatever, I’m coming.”

She pulled her backpack over her shoulder, the backpack with the words ‘good luck!’ written on it in red marker– the excited scribbles of Webby Vanderquack had almost washed away in the rain.

She entered the building with a resigned sigh, passing Gladstone Gander and the point of no return.

There was another reason Lena resonated with the sky and still would.

Its droplets built over time, its sorrow hidden from the world only by clouds – and with colours only some would be able to decipher.

“I had a feeling it was going to rain,” mused Gladstone Gander as he guided Lena inside.


	2. Home

Lena felt alien as she came face to face with the lavish décor that filled out the block.

Interior decorators clearly had a blast or subsequently a nightmare at the various different wallpaper, flooring and trinkets that made the room stand out from a run-of-the-mill flat. Paintings, statues and pricey furniture were strewn across the room.

The hallway had been only a telltale sign of the room after it – the living room, blended with the kitchen which had a bar and only the most top-quality appliances, had a cushy couch, an arm chair and a flat screen TV with an electric fire sitting beneath it. It was decorated with gold and various reds, whilst the kitchen itself had milky-white and onyx coloured tiling. The windows were both wide and tall, overlooking the city of Duckburg with pride.

So far, there was only one word for Gladstone’s place – expensive. Perhaps one more with the look on his face – expressive.

Gladstone walked over to the kitchen with a slightly smug expression on his face. Lena could see the arrogance dripping from it, and promptly rolled her eyes at such emotion. Of course. She was adopted by one of _these_ people.

Still…

He pulled a bottle from the drink rack, as well as a sparkling glass from a cupboard. He poured out whatever content was in the bottle, and Lena watched with disapproval as he did.

After he’d joyfully finished pouring, he noted his adopted child’s response to his action and supped the glass nonchalantly.

“You’re _drinking_?”

He rolled his eyes slightly.

“It’s sparkling water. Passionfruit, actually,” he stated, then a small smile surfaced on his face as he gently shook the glass. “Want some?”

“No thanks,” she responded curtly, scanning the other doors in the room. “Can you show me where my room is?”

It took him a moment to process, though he felt a little saddened when he had.

“Yeah,” he replied, setting the glass down on the bar before walking towards one of the doors.

“I meant just point, but okay.” Lena shrugged as she walked towards the door, whilst Gladstone stood awkwardly beside it. She opened the door to walk in, but before she did, he interjected.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you unpack or anything… uh…”

“Lena,” she responded with irritation, and she faced forward. “Unpack what?”

Gladstone saw the pack on her back, then sighed quietly as he turned away.

How had he missed that? Lena had come from somewhere so little to somewhere so big. He’d remembered asking specifically ‘is that all you have?’ when he’d gone to pick her up. The only thing she’d have to unpack is emotional baggage – and she wouldn’t let him help unpack even that.

“Right…” he muttered, feeling slightly dejected. He readjusted his coat, then put on a smile. “Okay, well… I guess I’ll give you a call when dinner comes around.”

His smile stayed until the door was shut in his face, and he sighed in irritation, rubbing his temples as he walked towards the house phone.

“Nice. Great. You’re welcome,” he grumbled under his breath.

He was… frustrated. He’d only heard about how much she’d been through and couldn’t dream of imagining it. He was trying to be nice to the kid, but she wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t want help.

Was it going to be like this the whole time?

He was so used to people coming to him for his luck, and now that someone was here, PROBABLY in need of it – it wouldn’t work for either of them?

He looked out at the window, watching the rain hit against it. He could hear light thundering in the background. Miserable – certainly said a lot. With any luck, it would pass the next few days.

 His eyes passed over the coast, its waves thrashing with the wind. His brow furrowed slightly and he thought briefly to himself, frowning.

“Is this what Donald puts up with?” he wondered to himself.

His gaze was lost momentarily on that horizon, then he glanced at the phone.

* * *

 

Lena entered the room, closing the door behind her. She could hear the grumbling of her adoptive parent through the door, but paid little mind to it.

She switched on the light took a few steps into the room, then stopped.

The room had various shades of blue, with redwood borders and a ceiling of sky lights. The wooden headboard of the bed had indentations of stars, and a set of drawers opposite it, mirror and all. A closet was to her right, and there were bedside tables beside the single bed bearing a moonlit gradient bedding.

She was speechless, not that she’d have anyone to say anything to. She approached the mirror slowly. As she did, she felt the soft royal blue carpet squish beneath her – it soaked up the rain she’d carried in.

She came to a stop in front of the dresser, finally. The mirror atop its surface was polished, refined and traditional – built into the set of drawers. She gazed at the mirror, pondering and sombre.

The reflection in the mirror was still – then, it rattled. Violently.

She reeled in shock, staring at the pitch-black shadow that was staring back at her with gleaming red eyes; she whimpered, almost yelped as she shut her eyes – but as soon as she opened them again, the thick darkness was gone. Nothing was there.

She stared at it, and staring back her, was a duck drenched from head to toe in rainwater, her hair flopping over her face and almost obscuring her vision.

No evil aunt. No shadow. No monster.

She sighed deeply, trying to regain herself. She rubbed her eyes as she tried to wipe the image of what had once been her family away from her mind. She hadn’t slept well since someone took her body for a joy ride… Maybe it was getting to her.

She wanted to sleep better again soon. Forget all… that.

Lena looked to the dresser’s left, finding another door that most likely led to the bathroom.

“This place has everything, huh,” she mused to herself.

_Lucky._

And almost on cue, the door opened a little – Gladstone held out a light blue towel through the crack, though did not look through it.

“There’s a towel here, if you need it,” he stated, throwing it gently on the floor in front of Lena.

Her eyebrows furrowed at him, then the towel. “…yeah. Thanks.”

The door shut after he’d finished his pause, and then she was left alone again.

Lena, in all honesty, didn’t know what was going to happen with this guy. Was the whole adoption thing really happening? Was he _really_ going to juggle these two different lifestyles now? Was she going to get some happy ending or whatever like in those cheesy storybooks?

The idea irked her in a way she couldn’t describe.

It seemed more realistic that he’d eventually get sick of her and kick her out, just like the rest. She expected no less from him.

She bent over to pick the towel up. Her eyes passed over the door to the en-suite bathroom and she considered entering it only briefly.

A couple moments later, she was rooting through her bag searching for spare clothes – which she had little of. Not much was in her backpack, just a couple of the same outfits and letters from Webby, to name a few.

She quickly found herself reading at least one of them. Webby was enthused that Lena had potentially found someone to brighten up her life and take care of her, and she was ‘all hyped up for the playdate!’ that they, Gladstone, and her newly appointed Uncle Scrooge could take part in.

A thought process later, she decided that may not be such a wise idea considering their relationship. 99.9% of the meeting would probably just be Scrooge being pouty.

Lena smiled a little, though she was unsure how long she’d been skimming the letters, because before she knew it there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, I know you’re probably not ready – and by all means, take your time,” she heard Gladstone’s voice through the wood. “But I ordered pizza. Kids like pizza, right?”

Lena’s expression grew a tad tight, deadpan even at that question. Thankfully he couldn’t see it.

“It’ll be here soon, probably,” he muttered, then raised his voice a little. “I was just wondering if you wanted to eat it in your room, or we could sit in here and watch movies or something. I don’t know.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, then tilted her head a little. She finally spoke.

“What kinds of movies? You aren’t going to throw educational ones down my throat, are you?”

“Not my goal, but if you _want_ that instead of TV remote privileges…” Gladstone started playfully.

“The remote sounds nicer,” Lena responded with a roll of her eyes, putting unneeded items back into her bag.

“So, movie night then?”

Lena looked at the door.

For Gladstone, that silence was agonizing – half way through it he felt like dismissing the thought altogether. Felt like just going back to watching his shows.

But she came through. Finally.

“ _Fine_. Movie night.”


	3. Movie Night I

Gladstone strolled away from the door, pizza boxes in hand as he switched on the TV via remote. He span the handheld device in his hand as he settled the boxes on the kitchen’s bar, his eyes half-lidded. Glancing briefly to Lena's door, he sighed as he stared back at the remote in his hands.

His inner conflict was brief, his thoughts cut short by the door opening. Lena entered the room in a tired manner, though perhaps emotionally so rather than the physical condition itself.

The teen made her way across the laminate flooring towards the TV. She came to a stop in the fluffy rug's centre, sitting down with her posture slightly bent. Her head turned slightly to stare at Gladstone from the corner of her eye.

The silence between them then was the definition of awkward. After a moment of blankness, his gaze moved to look out of the window at the city. The night sky was deep, dark, and blue - its depths sparkling and showing newfound hope for tomorrow.

The TV chattered in the background, the voice of Roxanne Featherly echoing throughout the room.

"...citizens are still struggling to recover from the catastrophe that befell Duckburg only a couple of days ago. And now to Mr. McDuck for further comment on how -"

The channel fizzled out, Gladstone changing it instantly as an old familiar duck appeared on-screen with a begrudging expression.

Lena blinked, then looked at the goose in confusion. She leaned on one hand, but the other gestured outwards as she failed to understand something.

"Why'd you change the channel?"

"Ah, well..." Gladstone trailed off, and Lena's expression grew more pressing as his sentence came to a halt. His face grew solemn, slightly sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "...I just didn't think you'd want to hear about it, that's all."

Before a surprised Lena could respond, he grew chipper and grabbed the pizza boxes from the bar, holding them cheerfully.

"Who wants pizza?"

Lena rolled her eyes, but yielded, sitting up straight and turning around as Gladstone sat on the sofa.

"...That's... a lot of pizza," Lena observed, perplexed. The tower was six boxes high. "You really think we can eat all that?"

" _My luck does_..." Gladstone grumbled under his breath, though said no more as he set them beside him. He skimmed the labels on the boxes, double-checking what he'd ordered was at least somewhere in that pile.

"What did you even order?" Lena asked, raising an eye brow as she too scanned the boxes.

"Well, I wasn't sure _what_ to order, so I just stuck with Margherita. And yet we wound up with six different toppings," he mused. He shrugged slightly, grinning awkwardly at Lena. "I guess that means, chances are you'll like something here."

"And that we're gonna’ be eating pizza for a week," Lena deadpanned.

Gladstone looked stumped with realization.

"...Yeah, pretty much."

He handed a box over to Lena, and she took it. She stared at it for a long time, and Gladstone was about to dig into his own box before he noticed this.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," she replied, her walls up once more.

"Are you -?”

"Yes, I'm fine - I don't need a therapy session," Lena responded with a roll of her eyes. "Could you pass me the remote?"

"...sure," Gladstone responded, his brow furrowing. He was far from impressed, a little concerned yet hurt at Lena's response to care. He bent over, passing the remote to the young duck who took it without a word.

She began cycling through the TV guide, searching the channels for something of interest as she chowed down on a slice of pizza with her other hand.

Gladstone watched as she did this, not at all touching his pizza. He was lost, wondering how he'd get to her when all she'd done so far was push him away. She didn't want anyone to help her, which was frustrating, because he did.

She'd come into the living room, at least. Humoured movie night. Perhaps he should be happy with that, but part of him feared this omnipresent silence throughout the flat.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, opening his pizza box. He picked up one of the slices, taking a bite from it.

"Horror movies," Lena answered bluntly.

Gladstone choked on his food.

He suddenly felt he made a mistake.

"H-horror movies?" he asked, looking a little startled. He looked conflicted. "Should you really be watching those?"

"Webby's grandma thought it was okay," Lena responded slyly, leaving out the aftermath of that ordeal. "Watching The Beast, I mean. Pretty good movie."

"Oh, she thought it was okay?" Gladstone queried, though looked a little uncertain.

He remembered the strict conversation from only hours ago - and felt like another lecture was on its way if Lena wasn't telling the truth.

"Totally. She kinda hated the ending though," Lena responded with a slight snicker.

"Well, okay then - knock yourself out," Gladstone stated, continuing his pizza slice.

* * *

 

Knock herself out she did, because Gladstone did not want to sleep ten minutes into her chosen movie. He regretted everything - handing her the remote, letting her have her way, and watching as innocent human beings (or actors) suffered for merely existing.

Lena seemed bored at first. The movie picked itself up though, and she immediately grew amused, whilst poor Gladstone was avoiding staring at the screen at all costs. The pizza box in his lap seemed far more interesting.

A particularly graphic film eventually made him grab the remote, and he switched it to a random channel that wasn't scarring him for life.

"Hey!" Lena protested, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms. "I was watching that."

"That's enough bloodshed for today," he responded sheepishly. "How about we find something else, huh? I'm sure there's some... nice family-friendly movies on here."

"Wouldn't know the genre."

"Lena, what happened?"

Lena stopped. She looked at him with wide eyes. His own were stern and pleading at the same time.

It was clear that Gladstone's tolerance for her snappy responses was growing thin. He'd been holding himself back from saying something, anything - but it hadn't lasted. It was more frustration than anger, though.

And Lena's walls only grew stronger. She pulled herself to her feet, stared at a news report which saw the town in ruins. Her expression crumbled, and she tensed, her fists clenching.

Gladstone noted this immediately, and without warning, turned off the TV. The room was swallowed by darkness, and Lena's footsteps were heightened by this blackness.

"Look... I know I'll never ever understand what you've been through, Lena. No one else will - but I want to know, and I want to help you!" his tone portrayed a slight tone of anger, annoyance. That tone died down when he realized his mistake. "But that can only happen if you let me."

"Yeah, well... I don't want to let you," she responded bluntly. Her footsteps stopped at the front of her door, and Gladstone heard it open. "Why do you even want to help me? Are you trying to prove something lame, Gladstone?"

Gladstone grew fervent.

"I'm... not trying to prove anything, Lena. I'm trying to -"

"Put on whatever movie you want," she said tiredly. "I'm tired and bored. I'm gonna' go to bed."

And the door must have silently opened, because it loudly shut as Lena left the room.

Gladstone stared vacantly at the door, then at nothing.

Despite being filled with well-enough furniture, the room felt awfully empty, and so did Gladstone's stomach regardless of what he'd eaten earlier.

The table lamp beside the sofa lightly illuminated the room as he switched it on, and he pulled himself to his feet. He picked up the few scattered pizza boxes and moved them to the kitchen, his thoughts dwelling on what had transpired moments ago.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. He was stumped, well and truly. Maybe he needed help after all. Parenting was a lot harder than it looked. There was so much more to it than being a cool relative who got you everything you ever wanted.

That meant nothing if the kid really wanted _nothing_ , and he was at a loss of what to do in this predicament.

Gladstone was going to have to find help, or they'd never get anywhere.


End file.
